That's all. My dad fixes problems like this all the time. Nobody ever asks how. Ryan sets his beer down without drinking much of it. Maybe we just let it go, he offers.
It was one bad day. Nobody's asking you to like it, Grant says. I'm telling you the plan. The garage goes quiet for a moment. Just the hum of the refrigerator.
Cole breaks the silence first. I'm in. Whatever it is. Extra cash never hurt anybody. Chase nods along, already halfway convinced by nothing more than boredom.
Dean hesitates a beat longer, then shrugs. Fine, as long as nobody gets hurt. Nobody's getting hurt, Grant says. She's just going to lose a job. People lose jobs every day.
It's not the end of the world. Ryan doesn't answer. He just looks down at the concrete floor. Something about the easy way Grant says it makes his stomach turn. He thinks about his little sister, about how she'd feel in Josie's place.
He doesn't say that out loud. Not in this garage. Not to these guys. Grant lays out the plan slow like he's proud of it. They'll wait for a busy shift.
Chase distracts her near the register. Grant slips a folded stack of bills into her apron pocket. Then they make sure Rosie finds the register short right in front of everyone. That's it. Dean asks.
Just plant some cash on her. It's enough. Grant says, "Small town like this, rumors do the rest. Nobody's going to believe a stranger over a witmore. " "Not here.
" Ryan stares into his beer. Doesn't say anything else. Something about the plan sits wrong in his stomach. He doesn't know how to say that out loud. Not to this group.
Not without becoming the next target himself. So, he stays quiet the way he always does, the way people in Marlo Creek have learned to do around this family. Tuesday morning comes gray and ordinary, same as always. Josie ties her apron, checks the register, starts her shift like any other day. She doesn't know yet that today is the day everything shifts.
By 11:00, the diner is packed with the lunch rush. Grant and his crew walk in together, all five of them this time. Rosie's smile tightens just slightly at the sight of the group. Big appetite today, boys? She asks, trying to keep it light.
Something like that, Grant says, taking the corner booth. They order more than usual. Loud, sprawling, taking up half the room. Josie moves through her tables, steady as ever, weaving around the chaos. Around noon, Chase waves her over, holding up an empty ketchup bottle.
Hey, can you grab us a refill and maybe some extra napkins? Sure thing, Josie says, heading toward the kitchen. The second her back is turned, Grant slides out of the booth. Quick practiced. He'd rehearsed this in his head all week.